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Waiting... | by Azorina
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When I am alone I am happy.

The air is cool. The sky is

flecked and splashed and wound

with color. The crimson phalloi

of the sassafras leaves

hang crowded before me

in shoals on the heavy branches.

When I reach my doorstep

I am greeted by

the happy shrieks of my children

and my heart sinks.

I am crushed.


Are not my children as dear to me

as falling leaves or

must one become stupid

to grow older?

It seems much as if Sorrow

had tripped up my heels.

Let us see, let us see!

What did I plan to say to her

when it should happen to me

as it has happened now?


William Carlos Williams

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Taken on September 7, 2004